I Won't Let You Go
by Eridanus7Always
Summary: Sherlock thinks he knows John Watson. A Doctor with military service, nerves of steel and a good shot. But what Sherlock doesn't know about John is that he was wounded working as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic not in Afghanistan. And when an old enemy returns John's has to come clean about his past to save them both.


This is a Potterlock Fanfiction. I've never done anything like this before so I really hope you like it.

All rights belong to their proper creators; JK Rowling for Harry Potter and BBC Mark Gattis and Steve Moffit for Sherlock. No SLASH.

Enjoy! And please review.

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><p>The spell blasted overhead sending a cascade of plaster over John's hunched shoulders. He could hear her boots on the floor. The rubble of his home crunching beneath her feet. He could hear the drawl of her nails against the wall. The manic echo of her laughter. And Mina's screams echoing from upstairs.<p>

John dropped his head desperately searching the rubble that was strewn under his feet. He had lost his wand in the initial scuffle but he needed something he could use against them. He found a large fragment of glass, gleaming beneath the plaster.

"Come on John." She called. "I thought you loved that little mudblood of yours."

John tightened his hand around the shard of glass. Feeling his blood squelch hotly between his fingers. Bellatrix's shadow loomed up on the wall overhead, twisting her wand up as she prepared to fire another spell. Her thin lips curling back. "John!" Mina's desperate scream broke through the stifling silence. Breaking in a hysterical half choked sob that made John's stomach twist in agony. He blinked hard forcing back the tears that welled up in his eyes.

"She's crying for you John." Bellatrix teased. "Can't you hear her?"

John gritted his teeth, taking his chance he dove forward from behind the couch. Rolling to his feet he drove the shard of glass up into her stomach. Bellatrix howled in pain as John shoved her to the ground. Her wand came loose from her hand skittering across the floor.

John dove after it. Scrambling to pull it into his hand, the blood making his fingers slick so the wand fumbled clumsily into his hand. Spinning around he came up to his feet her wand poised in the air. Bellatrix hadn't moved. She was still lying on the ground, her blood soaked fingers wrapped around her stomach.

But behind her, silhouetted by the cold light of the moon a dark figure stepped into the room. John could not see his face behind the mask but his wand was already raised. "Sectumsempra." He said thrusting his wand forward.

John felt a white-hot pain slash across his chest. Dark spots bloomed across his vision as his knees gave way beneath him sending him crashing with a jarring thud to the floor. Blood growing in an ominous scarlet stain across his shirt. Bellatrix lifted her head slowly drawing herself up to her feet. John reached his hand out trying to draw up her wand to use it against her but he couldn't muster control of his trembling fingers.

Bellatrix stepped forward. Her feet shuffling unsteadily beneath her. Bending down she pulled her wand into her hand towering over John's prone body. A malicious light gleaming in her black eyes.

"Bellatrix." The man said. Materializing suddenly beside her he took her arm firmly in his hand. "Leave him, we have what we came for." Bellatrix cast her eyes back to John looking none too pleased but she didn't protest. She lifted her head up moving past John as if he wasn't worth it but he could see her hand trembling in rage as she passed out of the room.

"Mina." John gasped reaching out he grabbed the robe of the Death Eater that stood over him. "Please, where is my Mina." He practically begged, moisture welling up in his eyes. The Death Eater paused bending down he spoke so softly John could barely hear him. "I am sorry but you shouldn't have crossed him."

With that he stood and passed out of the room. John could hear heavy boots tramping in the foyer as the front door creaked open and slammed shut. A bright green light swelled up washing the silver light of the moon in its ominous glow. And though John couldn't see it he knew the Dark Mark was now twisting in the night sky just over head.

Dropping his head, John's chest rose and fell with each haggard breath. His eyes sunk weakly closed as he forced them open, his eyes roving across the dark ceiling. Wiggling his left hand across his chest, he pressed his hand down on the wound grimacing his teeth against the pain as the struggled to stop the bleeding.

"Mina!" He bellowed with as much force as he could muster. Dark spots dancing across his vision as his head swam. "I'm coming." He whispered. Rolling over his body practically buckled beneath the pain. He swayed collapsing against the wall leaving a long ghastly streak of blood as he dug his fingers into the riddled plaster once papered in that black and white floral print Mina had loved so much.

Tears burned down John's cheeks, dripping from his nose as a deep sob broke across his shoulders. With all the strength he could muster, driven by the echoing of Mina's pain still ricocheting in his head, John managed to drag himself to his feet. Then very slowly he began to stumble forward. His knees buckling barely able to carry him as he clung to the wall for support.

Reaching the foyer he was winded. His body trembling and so weak he felt his legs could not carry him another step further. But they must. They had to. John pushed off the wall taking two wild steps forward his body swaying dangerously as he collapsed.

The pain washing through him in such a violent wave it caused his body to heave as his lost his lunch on the floor. Chocking on the bitter taste of bile John drew his arms underneath him. They shook with the effort it took to lift him from the floor giving way before he could get back to his knees.

John choked back a sob of despair that threatened to overtake him. He had to get to Mina. He had to. Slowly and very painful he drug his body forward. Reaching the bottom of the stairs he lifted himself up onto the bottom step. His body collapsing forward, the darkness stretching across his vision but he pushed it back.

The fear that was knocking hollowly in his heart wouldn't let him give in. Not until he knew for sure. Stretching his arm up, John grasped tightly to the banister. Digging deep he somehow found the strength to lift himself up to his feet. And then very slowly, one step at a time, he began to shuffle clumsily up the stairs.

Reaching the top John's body was racked by deep winded gasp for air. His face was pale, his eyes unfocused as he drug his foot over the last step and collapsed. But this time he didn't have the strength to get up.

"John." He heard her voice echoing down into the darkness that was closing fast around him. His eyelids fluttered but he didn't have the strength left to open them.

Mina with what little strength she had left pulled herself the small distance from the office door into her husband's arms. "John." She said her voice hoarse from screaming. But John didn't move, he hadn't been strong enough. Reaching her hand up she grasped his chin turning his face towards hers. Memorizing the soft lines of his face. The crease of his brow between his eyes. The thin curve of his lips. Letting her eyes sink closed no longer able to fight it she pressed her lips to John's one last time. Her final breath passing between them as she fell still in his arms.

~/0\~

Sherlock was lying on the couch. Fingers laced across his chest. His foot tapping to the rhythm playing in his own head. He heard the soft tread of feet on the stairs. Too soft to be John's. Sherlock opened his eyes somewhat irritated to see Mrs. Hudson appear at the top of the stairs.

"Sherlock." She said. "You have a visitor."

Sherlock perked up at this no longer irritated with Mrs. Hudson for breaking his stream of thought. A case. Sherlock felt his skin tingle with anticipation. John and him hadn't had a case in a while. Not since, well Sherlock didn't want to waste time thinking on it but the drought since their last case was begging to drive both of them mad.

Sherlock was begging to get antsy, his hands shaking more than usual. The familiar pangs of addiction creeping back along his mind. And John though he kept up a good face, Sherlock knew the nightmares were creeping back in. They had a habit of doing that when John was stagnant for too long. Not that John would tell him. But Sherlock knew, he could see the darkening rims around John's eyes. He could hear the muffled screams coming from John's room sometimes at night when the dreams were really bad.

Yes, a case was exactly what they needed.

"Well what are you waiting for send him up." Sherlock said leaping to his feet. The anticipation gleaming in his eyes like a child. Mrs. Hudson nodded turning to head back downstairs.

"Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock called after her. She turned pausing just outside the door. "Will you put a pot of tea on?" He asked. "Of course dear but you'll have to come down and get it yourself when its ready. Remember I'm going out tonight."

"Yes, yes." Sherlock said flicking his hand at the inconvenience.

Mrs. Hudson didn't say another word as she moved back down the stairs. Sherlock could hear her talking to someone as he anxiously began pacing across the floor. The stairs creaked beneath the feet of the caller as he trod his way upstairs. Sherlock could hear Mrs. Hudson banging around in the kitchen as she put the pot of tea on followed closely by the soft click of the door as she stepped out for the night.

Sherlock did not know when John would be back. He had only just stepped out to run down to the store to pick up something for dinner. Sherlock hadn't wanted to be bothered at the time of the thought of dinner but now he was hoping John had ignored his terse opposition for anything to eat.

The man appeared in the door frame. Tall with a long face and cold eyes. He was clean shaven but his clothes were dirty and ragged. His lip pulled back in snear as his eyes fell on Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes, Amycus Carrow." He said in greeting. "You a friend of John Watson?" He asked bluntly.

Sherlock stepped back suddenly glad John wasn't here. He didn't like the look of this man. "No I'm sorry you must be mistaken." Sherlock said. "There is no one by that name living here. So if that is your only business I suggest you go."

The man reached down pulling something from inside his cloak. It was long and thin, like a well polished stick. The man slid his dirty fingers down around its black body, drawing it up he pointed it at Sherlock. "Now I'm going to ask you again. Where is John Watson?"

Sherlock had no reason to fear the oddly crafted stick the man was pointing at him. He set his jaw firmly growing irritated with this man's charade. "I have work that needs my attention." Sherlock said dismissively. The man twisted the wand in his hand flicking it at Sherlock as a burst of red light shot across the room. Sherlock had never felt such pain in all his life as his body crumpled to the floor.


End file.
